


A Causality of Poetry

by eccentrick



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:16:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eccentrick/pseuds/eccentrick
Summary: He knows the telltale signs of affection from almost all his team members. Shiro. . .Lance is still trying to figure that one out. He has only had brief glimpses beyond those of a leader caring for his team, not the real Shiro who loses his temper and jokes around. But Lance has always enjoyed a challenge.





	A Causality of Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> For a ship exchange! Cross posted on my Voltron tumblr: lo-tor

Lance will never claim to be poetic, but he knows something about poetic irony. He was so eager to be a hero, to be loved by many, to inspire like Shiro had inspired him. He wanted to fly through space, to discover new worlds and new creatures. But, now, sitting in the cockpit of the Red Lion, eyes closed and head heavy with lack of sleep, the glamor and glory has long worn off. He’s gotten everything he wanted and more, but maybe that makes everything _less_ somehow. 

He’s not complaining. He loves being a local hero to many enslaved peoples, and fighting alongside his friends that have quickly become his space family. There is still an echo, a chasm, inside his chest that threatens to swallow him whole when he thinks of his Earth family, but it is dulled by the many battles and little rest. Zarkon may be dead, Lotor on their side (debatable), but a grip such as the Galran regime’s does not easily relent. 

Cracking his neck, then his back, down to his knuckles, Lance opens up the comm. “I am alive and well! Tears are now no longer necessary. I know you all missed me.”

 _“Lance, you were gone for five minutes. In the hangar. We knew you were fine_ ,” Pidge says. _“You need to head out now, no more stalling.”_

 

“Sure thing, Pidgeon.” He hears Red growl in his mind, protective. He pats her dashboard, “She’s just grumpy because she hasn’t heard back from that alien from Uaua.”

 _“I heard that,_ ” she snaps. Her breath makes a whooshing sound against his ear. _“Be careful, idiot.”_

A small smile curves its way onto his lips, gentle as it is fragile. He is used to the subtle tells of emotions from his teammates, even from Keith. Pidge tells you she cares about you through a mouthful of glass, crunching it around the soft words until the sharp edges are worn smooth. Unless you were her family, of course. Hunk is always affectionate to those he cares about, with bear hugs and snacks and the way he can easily show you his anxiety without fear of ridicule. Keith is distant, but once he cares about someone (Shiro, the most) he will run headfirst into danger if needed. Allura tries to be tough, the princess everyone needs, but her warmth drips through the cracks of her facade in smiles and guidance. Coran, surprisingly, is strict with his emotions; his tells are when he refers to you with your name, not your given number. 

Shiro. . .well, Lance is still trying to figure that one out. He has only had brief glimpses beyond those of a leader caring for his team, not the real Shiro who loses his temper and jokes around. But Lance has always enjoyed a challenge. 

\--

Lance catches a glimpse during training. Sparring is a common exercise nowadays, now that they have their teamwork mostly down. Lance is usually paired with Hunk, another long range fighter, forcing them to learn hand-to-hand more quickly since they’re not allowed to use their bayards. But this time, this time Lance is personally paired with Shiro, and allowed to use his Altean broad sword. He’s still not exactly sure how to use it, beyond muscle memory that he has to not be thinking to rely on, which is hard to ask of Lance on most occasions. Here, facing Shiro, he is thinking too much, mind racing. He was excited and now he knows he can’t come close to beating Shiro. But, perhaps, that is not the goal. 

He immediately goes into his fighting stance, strong now, thanks to the many times Allura knocked him on his ass. Shiro doesn’t even bother activating his Galran arm; he thinks he can take Lance with just his hands, and as ~~hot~~ frightening that is, Lance wants to prove him wrong. Knock him off his feet. 

Lance waits until Shiro comes to him, surprising the Black Paladin, and barely dodges the resulting jab. He blocks the next hit with the expanse of his sword, moving back and forward and to the side like a strange and primal dance. Over and over, until Shiro catches on, almost kicking Lance’s legs right out from under him. He uses his sword to balance, stands, and charges at Shiro with all that he has, legs burning. Shiro’s eyes widen, and he seems frozen there, captivated by something. The strange spell is broken mid swing, and Shiro uses his arm to block him, the force of it knocking Lance down and therefore defeating him. 

“Heh,” Lance says, smug. “I got you to use your glowy arm! I lost but I still won!”

There is a resistant grin on Shiro’s lips, revealing his dimple and making it more pronounced. He offers a hand to Lance, and he takes it, his palm slotting against Shiro’s nicely. “Good work, Lance,” Shiro says, his opposite hand moving to Lance’s waist, gone as soon as it appears.

\--

Later, he mentally catalogues it. _Shiro is affectionate, in subtle ways, like a feather’s touch to your side._

Maybe he is a bit poetic.

\--

Lance, despite outward appearances, is in touch with his emotions. This doesn’t mean that he doesn’t ignore said emotions, once he identifies them, of course. He packs them away in neat boxes of humor and deflection, until he’s alone and safe to process a sea of conflicting feelings. Today, he’s having issues keeping a lid on his self-pity, seeing the visiting Keith cosy up with Shiro. Being as in touch as he is with his offending emotion, he knows that he is angry at Keith for no reason, and Shiro deserves to spend time with his close friend. Very. . .very close friend. 

Instead of badgering them, he overcompensates with humor; he should get a selfless medal, really.

“What do you call a haunted creamery?” 

Hunk sighs. “What _do_ you call a haunted creamery, Lance?”

“A _screamery_! Get it?! Because--”

“Because it’s scary, yes, we understand.” Pidge facepalms, on her glasses and all. 

Lance blows a raspberry at her, rolling his eyes. “I see which sibling sucked all the humor outta the womb.” 

“Matt wouldn’t even find that funny! That’s just going too far.”

“Actually,” Shiro says, standing next to Lance. Lance jumps, having not noticed the Paladin sidle up next to him. “Matt loves cheese, so he’d probably find that hilarious. On the Kerberos mission, he whined about how much he missed dairy.”

Shiro is smiling, a true smile, the skin around his eyes crinkling endearingly. He actually finds it funny, holy crow! Lance shares the grin, while Pidge looks on knowingly and Hunk talks about what he could make that could replicate cheese for the next time Matt visits. Behind Shiro, Keith nods at Lance, smiling the same smile as _leave the math to Pidge._ It feels strangely like approval. It doesn’t make sense. 

\--

Puns are a way to Shiro’s heart, Lance remembers later, when he’s alone. Another bullet point on an ever-growing list. 

\--

As cliche as it sounds, the realization he has been slowly walking towards becomes starkly clear when he almost dies. His sword is knocked out of his hands, a gash on his forehead dripping blood into his eyes, searing tears making his sight even more muted. A former Galran general grins, his fangs wet with red, a matching bite mark present on Lance’s shoulder. He’s never seen such an animalistic fighter, and it trips Lance up; he’s used to sequences, like dancing, sans freestyle. The steps to this dance of death are unclear to him, and it only makes his heart beat harder, pumping blood through the gash on his face. He has very little chance of turning the tide without help.

There is no rhythm to this Galran’s attacks. Lance stumbles, fighting to even stay standing. The battle seems already lost, but he can’t give up. He can’t let the others down. Not now. He searches his surroundings as quickly and sees his chance. 

“What?” Lance asks. “No evil speeches or gloating?” 

The General just growls, but takes the bait. As he runs towards Lance, Lance stays put, ducking at the last moment, going between the Galran’s legs, grabbing his sword. His line of sight is momentarily cleared, showing Shiro backed up to a wall by a druid. His decision is made, right then, as he throws his sword with everything he has, hitting its mark. 

“LANCE!” Pidge screams, but he’s already knocked out, hit on the head from behind. His last moments of consciousness is the feeling of being dragged against the hard floor, and then being freed, cradled. 

\--

He comes to, not falling from the cryopod, but lying down. His head still hurts, cuts bleeding sluggishly, but at least his eyes no longer burn, and the smell of blood is faint, a metallic aftertaste. Shiro doesn’t look much better, his armor dirty and stained red from what Lance assumes is his blood. 

“Hey,” Shiro says, relief coloring his voice. His hand is around Lance’s, splayed on his lap. Lance blinks.

“Hey back,” he replies. His voice is scratchy and not the least bit pleasant. That general will rue the day they battled if Lance’s beautiful voice is left tarnished. And he might’ve said that aloud, because Shiro laughs. 

“Your voice will always be beautiful.”

Lance’s eyes bulge. He attempts to sit up, but gets dizzy. Shiro is there to steady him, leaning him back in his former position. “You hit your head, and Coran says that we have to wait a few vargas to make sure there isn’t too much damage, since the cryopod is finicky with head injuries.”

His face falls. The hand in Shiro’s feels leaden. “Oh, so I must be hearing things. . ,” he says, the pain and disappointment loosening his otherwise sealed lips. 

“No, you aren’t mistaken.” To his grand surprise, Shiro blushes, down his neck and up to the roots of his bi-colored hair. _A full body blusher_ , Lance thinks, almost choking on his spit. He has to do a double take, that not only is Shiro embarrassed, but he also isn’t denying the beautiful comment. And, even if that’s the only thing that Shiro finds beautiful, he can still make it work; look at all the babes Steven Tyler gets.

“Y-You don’t say,” Lance babbles, his own face heating until the strong gaze Shiro is sending him. He has never seen Shiro give anyone that look, not even Keith. Shiro glances back down at their joined hands, sliding his fingers through Lance’s. 

He smiles. “I do say.”

And Shiro reaches down, smooths Lance’s matted hair, and cradles his face between his hands like something precious. “I do say. It’s not the only thing that’s beautiful.”

\--

Lance now knows the shades of affection from Shiro. The gentle brushes of fingertips in meetings, the dimple invocating smiles, the heavy hand on shoulders. The readiness of soft kisses, in corners, much rougher in private. Big hands in his and puns and laughs too hard-fought, only rightly earned. Like casting aside a mask, affection warms the rough corners of him, the artificial sharpness foreign to everyone including himself.

Lance sees the fierce way he protects those he loves, including Lance. He sees how he tries every experiment of Hunk’s, despite the occasional noxious fumes that exude from them. The gentle way he talks to Pidge, when she tries to bulldoze her way through a meeting. He sees the way Shiro looks at them all, at _Lance_ in particular, and can barely contain a smile of his own. He was wrong when he thought Shiro had no tells, had no vulnerabilities, especially when Lance knows he’s one himself. 

No, now that he looks at it, Lance is totally a poet. The way he wants to capture every piece of Shiro he sees, from the good to the bad, to the in betweens.

**Author's Note:**

> I can take requests on my tumblr! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
